White House, DC Washington

April 1, 2028, 23:50

The atmosphere in the Oval Office was calm, though an undercurrent of tension lingered beneath the surface. A large television screen displayed the live feed from Tokyo, where the parliamentary hearing was well underway. The muted hum of voices filled the room as senior officials observed the proceedings, their expressions ranging from neutral to mildly intrigued.

President Samuel Whitaker leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the screen. He exhaled softly before murmuring, "Hmm. Going well so far."

Across from him, Secretary of Defense Robert Hastings smirked, arms crossed as he observed the exchange. "Quite the political theater, huh?" he remarked dryly.

National Security Advisor Emily Carter scoffed. "No kidding. They're making a spectacle out of what should be a straightforward situation."

Whitaker arched a brow. "Over a hundred civilians dead is a 'straightforward situation'?"

Carter shrugged. "In the sense that it's not hard to figure out who's at fault here... and it's not us."

Press Secretary Daniel Ross let out a short chuckle. "Yeah, for once my job's gonna be easy."

Whitaker shifted his focus to him. "How's the media reacting so far?"

Ross adjusted his tie, checking his phone before responding. "After the testimonies, some major outlets are already tweaking their headlines."

Hastings glanced over. "Good or bad?"

Ross hesitated, then shrugged. "Mixed." He exhaled through his nose before adding, "Still, some of the mil-types are already questioning why Delta is on the ground instead of the Green Berets... How the hell am I supposed to answer that?"

Hastings smirked, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it—I'll handle that one."

Ross exhaled, rubbing his forehead. "Appreciate it. The last thing I need is some retired colonel tearing me apart on a primetime panel."

Whitaker leaned forward slightly, his expression thoughtful. "Still, I do wonder, Hastings—why were you so insistent on sending Delta? I was about to greenlight 1st SFG, and you nearly flipped the damn table over it."

Hastings' smirk faded, his demeanor turning serious. "Because Delta was the right tool for the job," he said simply.

Whitaker frowned. "Explain."

Hastings took a measured breath before leaning back. "We've got American civilians dead, over a hundred more missing presumably captured. That makes this a hostage rescue operation—Delta's bread and butter. Green Berets are great, but they train foreign forces. Delta gets people out." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before adding, "And let's be real—their opsec is tighter. No one's gonna post mission details on Instagram."

Whitaker let out a quiet exhale, conceding the point. "Fair enough." He shifted his gaze to the CIA Director, Eleanor Matthews, who had been silently listening. "How are our spooks holding up?"

Matthews finally spoke, her tone measured. "We've got assets in Tokyo, keeping tabs on Beijing and Moscow. So far, they're staying in their lanes."

Whitaker leaned back, rubbing his chin. "Let's hope it stays that way. The last thing we need is a pile of dead bodies. Are they still going through with the kidnapping?"

Matthews sighed. "From what we've intercepted, the Russians are taking a more measured approach—our asset is negotiating with them as we speak. The Chinese, though? They're still pushing forward."

Deputy Secretary of State Richard Lawson leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I don't blame them. Their economy is grinding to a halt, and the Special Region? It's an untapped gold mine—figuratively and literally."

Whitaker tapped a finger against his armrest. "Speaking of... what do we know about the Special Region?"

Lawson sighed. "From the reports we've gathered, their society is medieval. As for the geopolitics? We're flying blind. The only nation we've made "contact" with so far is the Empire." He shook his head. "They're the Roman Empire—but with magic and other fantastical crap."

Whitaker narrowed his eyes. "Are they the only major power?"

Lawson shrugged. "We don't know. Our boys haven't made contact with any other entities yet."

Whitaker's expression hardened. "What about the POWs? Did they say anything?"

Hastings leaned in, his voice low. "They're still tight-lipped about their beloved Empire, but when we started asking about other nations? That's when they started running their mouths."

Whitaker's brow furrowed. "So, who are these other powers?"

Hastings paused for a moment before speaking. "They mentioned four. There's the Kingdom of Theodore, the Republic of Ambrosia, the Holy State of Azaroth, and a Free State they wouldn't name." He shook his head. "The info they gave us is... scant, at best, and incredibly biased. The way they spoke about these other nations? Condescending, to say the least."

Whitaker considered that for a moment, then nodded. "Lawson, Your boss is meeting with our VVIP, right? tell her to ask the Princess about those four. Maybe she'll give us something less skewed."

Then his gaze shifted to Matthews. "What about the company? Did they succeed?"

Matthew allowed herself a small, knowing smile. "Yeah, they're already setting up in a city near Alnus Hill—Italica. And get this... the one in charge is a teenage girl. She holds the title of Countess."

Whitaker raised an eyebrow. "Please tell me Phill didn't threaten a kid."

Matthews shook her head. "Nah, no force needed. The girl welcomed him and his men with open arms after he helped care for some... let's say, less than loyal individuals."

Whitaker exhaled, visibly relieved. "That's good. Thank God the Japanese agreed to this."

Lawson nodded. "Yeah, they had their concerns, of course—mainly the fact that we're using PMCs at all. Given our track record, I can't exactly blame them."

Hastings smirked. "Let's not bring that part up. Besides, unlike Blackwater, these guys are lot more controllable."

Matthews shot him a pointed look. "Hastings, let me remind you—Shadow Company's budget is my budget. I lost a lot of talented Ground Branch officers when we decided to spin them off."

Hastings shrugged. "And now those same officers are operating with fewer restrictions. Isn't that what you people like?"

Matthews sighed, crossing her arms. "You're not wrong... I guess."

Whitaker tapped a finger on his desk. "Alright, that's enough for now. Let's just continue watching the Inquiry shall we."





Hyatt Centric Hotel, Tokyo

April 2, 2028, 13:01

The bus rumbled to a halt in front of a towering glass-and-steel structure. Its sleek, modern facade stood in stark contrast to the ornate palaces Princess Pina Co Lada and Bozes Co Palesti were accustomed to. Sunlight reflected off the shimmering windows, making the entire building appear almost ethereal against the city skyline.

Tomita unbuckled his seatbelt and stood. "Alright, we're here. Let's go, Kuribayashi." Without hesitation, he stepped off the bus, his eyes scanning the area.

Kuribayashi stretched her arms, letting out a small yawn. "Yup."

Pina turned to Yanagida, her brow slightly furrowed. "Who exactly are we meeting?"

Yanagida responded in a measured tone. "For Japan, you'll be meeting the Minister of Defense. As for the United States, their Secretary of State."

Bozes tilted her head, frowning. "A minister and... a secretary?"

Yanagida raised an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?"

Bozes hesitated before speaking. "No, I understand the Minister's position. But I thought we would be meeting someone... more powerful than a secretary."

Caldwell, who had been listening nearby, stepped forward. "I understand the confusion. In the Empire, the term 'secretary' likely refers to a lesser official, correct?"

Bozes nodded. "Yes. Someone who handles paperwork for a noble or a minister."

Pina, however, seemed more thoughtful. "But in the United States, it means something different, doesn't it?"

Caldwell nodded. "That's right, Your Highness. In the U.S., a Secretary isn't a personal assistant but a high-ranking official who leads an entire department of the government. The Secretary of State, for example, is one of the most powerful figures in the administration, responsible for foreign policy and diplomacy."

Bozes blinked. "So... like a Grand Minister of External Affairs?"

"Uh, More or less," Caldwell confirmed though a bit taken aback by the comparison. "The Secretary of State represents the President in dealings with other nations, negotiates treaties, and advises on major international matters. You could say they're the chief diplomat of the United States."

Pina absorbed the explanation, her expression pensive. "I see... So meeting them is quite significant."

Yanagida smirked slightly. "More than you might think. The fact that both of our Governments. are sending such high-level officials means your delegation is being taken very seriously."

Caldwell's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen before looking back at Pina. "Well, they're waiting for you, Your Highness. Are you ready?"

Bozes turned to Pina, noticing the slight tension in her posture. This was it. This meeting with another world's government might very well determine the fate of her and her empire. But the princess steeled herself, drawing a steady breath.

"Yes," Pina said firmly. "Let us go."

Bozes nodded. They both stood up and stepped off the bus, the cool breeze sweeping across the pavement as they made their way toward the hotel's entrance. Yanagida and Caldwell exchanged brief nods before offering their thanks to the bus driver, who waved courteously in return.

The group moved forward, Tomita and Kuribayashi flanked them, remaining vigilant. The hotel's imposing entrance loomed ahead, a heavy, polished door flanked by large columns of marble that led to the lavish interior beyond. As they approached, several men in suits emerged from the shadows, their expressions neutral but their posture sharp and alert.

One of the men stepped forward, his hand outstretched. "Good afternoon. We've been expecting you. Please follow me."

Caldwell and Yanagida presented their IDs with a brief nod, and after a moment's inspection, the men in suits stepped aside to grant them access. The air inside the hotel was cool, with the scent of polished wood and fresh flowers drifting through the lobby.

Bozes took in the high-end surroundings, but her mind remained focused. This was a foreign land, and this was a foreign power.

As they moved deeper into the building, the group was ushered into a private elevator. The doors closed silently, and the ride upward was smooth, almost eerily so.

Bozes exchanged a glance with Pina, who had already returned to her thoughtful silence, her eyes narrowing in concentration as she prepared herself for what was to come. After what felt like an eternity, the elevator doors opened to a luxurious hallway adorned with intricate tapestries and expensive artwork.

"This way," one of the suited men gestured toward the end of the hallway, where double doors stood.

A moment passed before a female voice spoke, with a cold, authoritative tone. "Come in."

Caldwell gave a small nod before pushing the door open. "Kuribayashi, Tomita, stay outside with the suits."

They gave curt nods, stepping back as Caldwell pushed the door open and walked in. Yanagida followed close behind, while Pina and Bozes entered last. The moment's weight settled over them like a heavy cloak.

A middle-aged woman approached, her expression unreadable. Across the room, a slightly younger man sat at the table, his calm demeanor betraying little.

"Captain. You've finally arrived."

Caldwell straightened, offering a respectful nod. "Madam Secretary." He gestured toward the noblewomen. "Allow me to introduce Her Highness, Princess Pina Co Lada, and Lady Bozes Co Palesti of the Empire."

Susan Ross, the U.S. Secretary of State, turned her piercing gaze toward Pina and Bozes. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, betrayed nothing as she extended a hand. "A pleasure."

Pina and Bozes each accepted the handshake, firm but polite. Yet, beneath Ross's scrutinizing stare, Bozes couldn't help but feel the weight of something far beyond simple diplomacy.

The man at the table spoke. "Lieutenant Yanagida?"

Yanagida stiffened instinctively. "Yes, sir?"

Japan's Minister of Defense, Toshiyuki Aramaki, nodded toward the chair opposite him. "Sit."

Pina and Bozes remained standing, absorbing the subtle but charged exchanges. The room crackled with tension—this was no ordinary diplomatic gathering. There was something deeper at play, something unspoken.

Ross's voice cut through their thoughts like a blade. "Oh, don't just stand there, young ladies. Have a seat."

The princess and her knight exchanged a quick glance before moving to their seats.

Ross followed suit, settling in beside Caldwell. Folding her hands together, she swept her gaze across the room. Then, with an air of finality, she spoke.

"Well, shall we begin?"





Prime Minister's Office, Japan

April 2, 2028, 13:12

A heavy silence filled the Prime Minister's office, disturbed only by the soft hum of the television mounted on the wall. Seated around a long conference table, cabinet members watched intently as the live parliamentary inquiry unfolded on the screen, broadcast directly from the National Diet.

Prime Minister Takashi Inoue leaned forward slightly, fingers steepled before him as he listened. On the screen, their otherworldly guest, Lelei la Lena, answered each question with remarkable poise and precision, unfazed by the weight of scrutiny.

"Quite mature for her age," Inoue murmured.

Foreign Minister Hiroko Tanaka, arms crossed, observed with a more critical eye. "She seems rather cold to me."

Chief Cabinet Secretary Kenji Matsuda exhaled sharply. "Call her mature, call her cold—I don't care, as long as she's not pinning anything on us."

Inoue leaned back slightly, nodding. "Fair point. Anyway, the meeting with the royalty should have started by now, right?"

Deputy Defense Minister Shinjiro Arakawa gave a curt nod. "Yes, sir. Mr. Aramaki is already speaking with Princess Pina Co Lada."

Inoue raised an eyebrow. "Still sounds like a cocktail to me." He shook his head before continuing. "Anyway, are the security measures in place?"

Minister of Justice Naoto Kisaragi adjusted his glasses. "The National Police Agency has heightened security around key locations, particularly the Diet and foreign embassies. Counterterrorism units are on standby, and PSIA agents are already stationed at the hotel."

Inoue's expression hardened. "Good. What about foreign agents? Are we tracking them?"

Kisaragi nodded. "The Americans handed us the names and faces of several SVR operatives in Tokyo. As for the Chinese, we've flagged a few individuals inside their embassy as potential MSS operatives. Nothing confirmed yet, but we're watching them closely."

Takashi let out a slow exhale, rubbing his temples. "Phew... You know, back during my campaign, when I said Japan would be the center of global attention?" He let out a dry chuckle. "This isn't exactly what I had in mind."

That got a few smirks around the room, but no one contradicted him. The tension in the air didn't ease.

"Alright," he continued, straightening up. "Moving on. Does anyone else have something to bring up?"

Minister of Economy, Trade, and Industry Kenjiro Saito cleared his throat. "Yeah, it's about those American contractors stationed in the Special Region."

Inoue's gaze sharpened, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Oh? The little grey men, huh?"

Arakawa frowned. "Mr. Aramaki had his concerns as well. I mean, do we really need their help? With our level of technology, the JSDF and Marines stationed there should be more than enough—not to mention the Delta operators already on the ground."

Takashi sighed, leaning back slightly. "Look, I get that Aramaki's proud of the JSDF, but why turn down extra manpower? Especially when it's free—the Americans are footing the bill. Besides, they're not stationed at Alnus anymore, right? They won't be getting in our way."

Matsuda cut in. "We could've at least asked them to let us have command over them—get some oversight."

Tanaka scoffed, shaking his head. "They'd never give us that. You know it. That's why I didn't bother asking. And if we had asked, the Americans would've been even more pissed at us than they already are—especially after we rejected their request to station an entire Marine Expeditionary Unit and only allowed a single regiment. Even then, we had to agree to their demand to include Delta Force."

Takashi raised an eyebrow. "I still have no idea how you convinced them, by the way. The way the POTUS was reacting when he heard Americans' bodies were lying dead after the Ginza fiasco, I thought they were going to nuke the poor sods."

Tanaka smirked. "Let's just say the Secretary of State and I have... an understanding."

Takashi shook his head, a half-smile crossing his face. "I'd love to know how that 'understanding' works, but for now, we've got bigger fish to fry." He let the smile fade, his expression darkening. "We've got the Europeans breathing down our necks right now."

Kisaragi nodded gravely. "Yeah, after the investigation was completed, we found at least 20 Brits dead, 24 missing; 32 French dead, 16 missing; 20 Germans dead, 8 missing... and various other European countries with smaller numbers."

Tanaka added, her voice dry, "And of all of them, the French are the most upset. 2 weeks ago, their foreign minister nearly blew a gasket when I told them we couldn't accommodate French soldiers."

Arakawa chimed in, "It's not like it was a lie when Mr. Aramaki told you to say that. The Alnus base is far too small to accommodate more men."

Tanaka sighed. "Yeah, well, the French didn't care. They told us to expand the base... and rudely hung up on me right after."

Takashi held back a laugh but then straightened himself as Kenjiro Saito spoke up. "Weren't we already planning to expand the base anyway? After taking in all those refugees?"

Arakawa nodded. "We might, after they took in those refugees. They had to bring in extra tents since the temporary houses built aren't enough. But I don't think it would be sustainable since apparently, they're planning on staying there permanently."

Saito raised an eyebrow. "Obviously, it won't work. We'll need to build permanent housing for them, and that's not even considering how we'll integrate them into the economy and provide for their welfare. Do you think General Hazama can handle it?"

Arakawa scoffed lightly. "He's a general, not an estate developer. He can manage logistics, but designing a town layout? Not his area of expertise."

Saito nodded thoughtfully. "we'll send someone over to help if you don't mind."

Arakawa gave a small nod. "I'd appreciate it."

Takashi glanced around the room. "Alright, that clears everything up, then?" He waited as the ministers exchanged nods of agreement.

Then, from the television, a voice cut through the discussion.

"Now, I would like to call our next witness—the Apostle of the Goddess Emroy, Rory Mercury."

Then, the image on the TV screen shifted to reveal a small figure in a black dress, her ruby-red eyes gleaming with confidence. Despite her youthful appearance, she had an undeniable presence that demanded attention.

Matsuda blinked, leaning forward slightly. "That young girl... is an Apostle?"

Tanaka exhaled sharply, skepticism clear in her expression.

Takashi smirked. "What, having doubts? Didn't take you for an atheist, Hiroko."

Tanaka scoffed, crossing her arms. "I never said that. I just find it... intriguing. A god that actually interacts with the world."

Takashi chuckled. "Well, if you're that interested, maybe you should start praying. Who knows? You might get a response."

Tanaka rolled her eyes. "I'd rather hear what she has to say first."

As Rory stepped up to the podium, the room in the Diet chamber fell into an uneasy silence. Even through the screen, her presence was undeniable—calm, confident, and eerily composed.

The representative adjusted his glasses before speaking. "Miss Rory Mercury, could you explain to us what it means to be an Apostle?"

Rory tilted her head slightly, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "What it means?" she echoed, her voice smooth yet carrying an almost unnatural weight. "To be an Apostle is to be chosen by a god—blessed with power, purpose, and a duty that surpasses mortal understanding."

Matsuda frowned, his gaze narrowing. "That sounds... ominous."

Tanaka, still watching intently, tapped her fingers against the table. "Power, purpose, duty..." she muttered under her breath, more to herself than anyone else.

Rory's smile widened, as if she had heard Tanaka's words despite the distance. "And, of course," she continued, her crimson eyes glinting, "to be an Apostle is to bring death when it is demanded. For Emroy is not only the god of war—but of destruction and chaos as well."

The representative cleared his throat, shifting slightly in his seat. "So, if your god wills it, you must obey? No matter what is asked of you?"

Rory chuckled, the sound light but carrying an eerie undertone. "Obedience?" she mused, resting a gloved hand against her cheek. "No, it's not so simple. We are not mindless servants. We are chosen for a reason—our will aligns with our god's. We carry out their will not out of blind faith, but because it is our nature. It is who we are."

Takashi leaned back, crossing his arms. "So, what you're saying is... you enjoy it?"

Rory turned her gaze directly toward the camera, her smile never faltering. "Would you not enjoy fulfilling your purpose, Mr. 'Prime Minister'?"

Tanaka exhaled slowly, her gaze still locked onto the screen. A rare spark of intrigue flickered in her eyes.

"Fascinating..."





Japanese Parliament Building, Tokyo

April 2, 2028, 13:20

The Diet chamber stood in stunned silence. A few murmurs rippled through the rows of politicians, but no one dared raise their voices.

Rory remained at the podium, draped in her signature black-and-red gothic attire. Her crimson eyes gleamed under the chamber's lights, her lips curved into a smirk. The camera's red light blinked, broadcasting her image live to the entire nation.

Adam leaned forward in his seat "What in the fuck is she doing?"

Lockridge finally exhaled, shaking his head. "Well, that's something."

Harper smirked, eyes still fixed on Rory. "I like her already."

Lockridge glanced at him, raising a brow. "Seems like she overheard the Prime Minister talking about her... Is that one of her divine powers?"

Harper chuckled, leaning back. "I guess so. I know people with good hearing, but no one hears a conversation happening in a whole other building."

The silence in the chamber stretched on, thick with unease. Some politicians exchanged uncertain glances, while others sat rigidly in their seats, as if afraid that any movement might draw Rory's attention.

At the podium, Rory let the moment linger, her smirk widening. She tapped a gloved finger against the microphone, the sound echoing through the vast hall.

"Oh? No questions?" she mused, her voice laced with amusement. "I expected a bit more... spirit."

A Representative cleared his throat before finally breaking the silence. "We do have questions, Miss Rory. First and foremost—did the JSDF take the necessary actions to minimize civilian deaths?"

Rory giggled, a soft, almost melodic sound that sent an eerie chill through the chamber. She rested a hand on her hip, tilting her head as her crimson eyes gleamed with amusement.

"Oh my, are you trying to blame the soldiers?" she teased, her voice laced with mock innocence. "How bold of you."

The Representative stiffened, shaking his head. "No, that is not my intent," he said firmly. "I only seek the truth. The people of Japan deserve to know if the JSDF acted with restraint."

Rory's smirk didn't waver. She tapped a finger against her chin, pretending to ponder his words. "The truth... now that's an interesting thing." Her gaze swept across the chamber, lingering on the rows of tense politicians. "But tell me, Representative—do you truly want the truth, or just the answer that will sit best with your conscience?"

Murmurs rippled through the chamber once more. Some politicians exchanged wary glances, while others avoided meeting Rory's gaze entirely.

The Representative straightened his posture. "I want the truth, Miss Rory. Nothing more, nothing less."

Rory chuckled again, this time with a knowing glint in her eyes. "Very well." She leaned forward slightly, resting both hands on the podium. "Then listen closely, because I will only say this once."

She let the tension hang in the air for a brief moment before continuing.

"Your soldiers did the best they could against a flame dragon—one of the fiercest beasts in our world. Even the most seasoned warriors, mages, and adventurers struggle to so much as scratch its scales. And yet, your JSDF stood their ground, fought bravely, and drove it away... saving the caravan in the process."

To her surprise, the man smirked. "Yes. Thank you, Miss Rory."

Rory blinked, momentarily caught off guard. She had expected skepticism, maybe even another round of questioning—but not this.

After a brief pause, she gave a small nod. "You're welcome."

With that, she turned and walked back to her seat, her smirk returning as the chamber remained thick with stunned silence.

With that, she turned and walked back to her seat, her smirk returning as the chamber remained thick with stunned silence.

As she sat down, however, she immediately noticed Adam—his jaw clenched, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Itami, sitting beside him, was already trying to calm him down.

"Rory..." Adam muttered, his tone sharp with irritation.

Rory tilted her head innocently. "...Was I not supposed to?"

Without hesitation, Adam flicked the back of her head—not hard, but enough to make his point.

"Just because you're chosen by a god doesn't mean you can act however you want," he scolded.

Rory pouted, rubbing the spot he'd hit. "I was being honest..."

"You were being theatrical."

Itami sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Can we not have this argument here?"

Rory smirked again, clearly unbothered. "Fine, fine. I'll behave."

Adam didn't look convinced, but for now, he let it go.

The Speaker cleared her throat, bringing the murmuring chamber to silence once more.

"That will conclude this inquiry," she declared, her tone firm. "The information provided is sufficient for our deliberations."

greement or murmuring amongst themselves. A few, however, remained less than pleased—some with skeptical expressions, others whispering to their aides with discontent.

Rory leaned back in her seat, watching their reactions with amusement. "Hmph. At least some of them have common sense."

Adam exhaled, still visibly tense. "I wouldn't be so sure. They might not question you now, but this isn't over."

Itami shrugged. "Could've been worse. At least they're not calling for someone's resignation over this."

Lockridge, seated among the special observers, chuckled under his breath. "That was one hell of a performance."

Harper smirked. "I told you I liked her."





Bourbon Street Bar, Tokyo

April 2, 2028, 13:35

Maya let out a loud laugh, leaning back in her seat. "That Rory girl sure is interesting. Woo!"

Across from her, Morozov sighed, taking a slow sip of his vodka. "Whiskey hitting you already?"

Maya grinned. "Maybe." She downed the rest of her glass and set it aside with a clink before turning to him, her expression sharpening. "Now that the main show's over... still going through with the kidnapping?"

Morozov remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. He knew Maya well enough—drunk or not, she was still sharp as ever.

Finally, he exhaled. "So you knew."

Maya smirked. "Pssh, your encryption sucks, man. Of course we knew." She threw her arms up in an exaggerated motion. "Hell, we even found out our counterparts in Beijing are planning the same thing."

Morozov's fingers tightened around his glass, but he kept his expression neutral. "That so?"

Maya chuckled, leaning in slightly. "Yeah. And I'd bet good money they know about your little operation too."

Morozov's fingers tightened around his glass, but his expression remained carefully neutral. "Is this a threat?"

Maya smirked, swirling the last drops of whiskey in her glass before setting it down. "Maybe." She leaned in, her voice dropping just enough to sound casual—yet unmistakably firm. "But listen, I don't feel like dealing with you assholes right now. I've got Chinese to fry."

She tapped the rim of her empty glass, meeting Morozov's gaze with a lazy grin. "So how about you do us both a favor and keep your hands off our guest?"

Morozov studied her for a moment before exhaling through his nose. "I'll think about it."

With that, he stood, downing the rest of his vodka in one smooth motion before setting the glass aside. His shadow, Kuzya, followed silently as they disappeared through the bar's exit.

Maya watched them go, her smirk lingering—at least until the door swung shut. Then, with a dramatic groan, she let her head fall against the table.

The bartender leaned over, brows furrowed in concern. "大丈夫ですか、お客様？(Are you okay, miss?)"

Maya lifted a single finger in response. "だいじょーぶ... ううう... (I'm fine... uhhhh.)"

Before the bartender could press further, the bar door swung open, and Alex stepped inside, his gaze immediately landing on Maya slumped over the table.

"Maya, can you walk?" he asked, already sounding exasperated.

Maya didn't lift her head, only letting out a long groan. "I just had one glass..."

Alex turned to the bartender, eyes narrowing. "本当に一個しか持ってなかったのか？" (Did she really only have one?)

The bartender sighed and reached under the counter, pulling out an empty bottle of Jack Daniel's, setting it down with a soft thud.

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. " 冗談でしょうね..." (You've gotta be kidding me...)

He shook his head before crossing his arms. "You're not supposed to drink on the job."

Maya sluggishly lifted her head just enough to glare at him "Fuck youuuu"

Alex sighed, shaking his head. "Okay then."

Without further warning, he grabbed Maya's arms and hoisted her up, slinging one over his shoulder with practiced ease.

"すみませんね。" (Sorry about this.) He gave the bartender a quick nod before turning toward the exit.

Maya groaned but didn't resist, though her legs barely cooperated as Alex guided her out of the bar. "You're manhandling me..." she mumbled.

"You lost the right to complain after downing an entire bottle."

As they stepped outside, a black SUV idled by the curb. The back door swung open, revealing Sawyer, who had just finished securing his Remington CSR in the backseat. He glanced up, taking in the sight of Maya half-draped over Alex.

Sawyer smirked. "She drunk or dead?"

Alex shot him an unimpressed look. "Just get me that."

Sawyer chuckled, already reaching into a small compartment. "Yeah, yeah, I got you." He pulled out a small bottle and tossed it to Alex, who caught it with one hand.

Without hesitation, Alex uncapped the bottle and pressed it against Maya's lips. "Drink."

Maya barely had time to protest before the sharp, bitter liquid hit her tongue. She gagged, eyes snapping wide open as the potent sobriety mix burned its way down her throat. "Gah—what the fuck?! That tastes like ass!"

Sawyer grinned. "Yeah, well, so does passing out in a gutter."

Maya coughed, wiping her mouth before glaring at Alex. "You could've at least warned me!"

Alex simply shrugged. "Would you have drank it willingly?"

She grumbled under her breath, but her footing was already steadier, the haze of alcohol lifting.

Sawyer leaned against the SUV, arms crossed. "Alright, now that princess is back among the living—what's the plan?"

Maya rolled her shoulders, shaking off the last remnants of her drunken haze. "I think I managed to get them to back off. I'll check in with Laswell and see what the next move is."

Alex raised a brow, arms still crossed. "Wow. You're actually listening to her for once."

Maya snorted. "Last time I didn't, I nearly got killed, remember?"

Alex exhaled sharply, his expression darkening for a split second. "Yeah. Don't remind me."

Sawyer smirked, watching the exchange with mild amusement. "Touching. Now can we get in the damn car before someone starts asking questions?"

Maya ignored him, pulling out her phone. She grinned before speaking in a sing-song voice. "Yo, mommy Laswell~"

There was a brief pause on the other end before Laswell's voice came through, unimpressed as ever. "Maya. Are you drunk?"

Maya rolled her eyes. "Define drunk."

Alex shot her a glare. "Not anymore," he cut in. "I force-fed her the mix."

Laswell sighed. "One of these days, I'm going to put a leash on you, Woods."

Maya smirked. "Kinky."

"Maya."

"Fine, fine. No fun. Anyway, Morozov's backing off—I think."

Laswell's tone flattened. "What the fuck do you mean, you think?"

Maya shrugged, even though Laswell couldn't see her. "Well, I put the idea in his head. I'd say... seventy-five percent chance he backs off."

Laswell was silent for a moment before exhaling through her nose. "Seventy-five percent is good enough for now. At least that means we can focus on the Chinese."

Alex nodded. "So what's the play?"

"You'll link up with the PSIA. They're already tracking Chinese activity, but they don't have the manpower to cover everything. Your job is to protect the princess If Beijing makes a move, I want you in position to shut it down before it happens."

Sawyer adjusted his rifle case. "So we're babysitting a royal? Great."

Maya smirked. "Relax, Sawyer. Maybe she'll fall for you, and you can retire as some noble consort."

Sawyer gave her a deadpan look. "I'd rather drink that sobriety."

Laswell ignored their banter. "Get to the hotel. The PSIA already has agents inside, but they'll be stretched thin if something happens. Don't engage unless absolutely necessary—I don't need an international incident."

Maya gave a lazy response. "Got it, boss. No blood on the carpets. We'll play nice."

"See that you do," Laswell said. "I'll be in touch."